


War and a piece

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Friends to Lovers, M/M, War and Peace AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 10:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Good omens/Tolstoy fusion featuring everything Tolstoy hated, that is, it's short, it's gay and it's written my me. Prince Anthony and Count Aziraphale in an imaginary Moscow with gay rights.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	War and a piece

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shaniacbergara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaniacbergara/gifts).



> Reuploaded
> 
> CW: non graphic labour, death of a minor character in labour, mentions of injury, mentions of amputation. Nothing gory.

Princex Beelzebub's salons were spectacular. Creme de la creme of the Moscow society gathered there and talked politics and gossip, frequently mistaking one for the other. One would never hear a word in Russian there, one would never think that the people there could be influenced by the current events - princex Beelzebub kept it high-minded, narrow-minded and absolutely fabulous. Some said that princex Beelzebub married their husband, prince Gabriel, because the man was ridiculously handsome and was everything his spouse wasn't, which is to say, prince Gabriel was incapable of critical thought, lacked in eloquence most deplorably, but was the most magnificent decoration of princex Beelzebub's parties. Some, on the other hand, found that prince Gabriel was clever but pretended to be silly. Both parties were right of course. It occurred to no one that princex Beelzebub was indeed deeply in love with their militaristic husband, and that the feeling was mutual. Prince Gabriel was indeed stupid, however his stupidity was the result of his faithful love for his spouse. 

Count Aziraphale was invited to princex Beelzebub's parties only because his story was one of the most delicious scandals. 

Count Aziraphale Fell was a lawful son of countess Elihaisky. However the countess found herself in quite incriminating circumstances - she had a bastard son by no one knew whom, and Aziraphale gave up his right, his position of the firstborn to make sure his mother could keep her lovechild with her. Countess Elihaisky was genuinely touched and impressed by her lawful son's generosity. Count Aziraphale had no right to be called count, but she wouldn't tolerate any gossip about the matter. Unfortunately, her bastard son died very young. He was barely a year older than Aziraphale, conceived and born out of wedlock, but unlike Aziraphale, Lucifer was cruel and reckless. His death was in direct result of his conduct, or rather misconduct. The countess was consumed by her grief, and she felt guilty about letting her noble youngest son take it upon himself to right her wrongs. In the end, the countess died in Aziraphale's arms, and Aziraphale became an incredibly rich man, who had no idea about what he had to do to belong to the highest society. He had spent most of his life out of sight, reading, traveling, getting into all sorts of troubles, mostly embarrassing. He kept his bastard name, Fell, and he managed to bend every rule and custom to his will, all of which he did with a pout and a sweet smile. People either adored or hated him. He was a nuisance, after all. 

Princex Beelzebub considered Aziraphale a particularly delightful participant of her evenings. He brought with him a sense of chaotic adventure, something mischievous and naughty, all the while looking like an angel and being oblivious to the cruel jokes people would make about him.

With his curly blond hair and bright blue eyes, with his plump body and light-coloured outfits, Aziraphale appeared to be dangerously naive, although anyone who got to know Aziraphale realised that the man, despite his youth, his perceived innocence, could be tough and cruel once someone upset him or those he loved. 

Aziraphale was married once, but his husband cheated on him openly. Everyone expected Aziraphale to ignore it or to fail to notice it, and yet Aziraphale demanded to be divorced, said demand being presented to the Tzarina herself and satisfied swiftly. 

Still there were people who underestimated Aziraphale, and princex Beelzebub was one of them. Prince Gabriel despised Aziraphale because the count was soft, loved food and wine, got lost in philosophical disputes and never went to church, unless he felt like it, which the count never did. He worshipped the Lord by rejoicing in every good thing the world had to offer, and since Aziraphale was enormously rich, the world had quite a lot to offer. 

Of all the things the world had to offer, especially during the fancy evenings at princex Beelzebub's, count Aziraphale preferred the company of prince Anthony Crowley.

Prince Anthony was the opposite of count Aziraphale in everything. The latter was cheerful and naive, the former was sceptical and cynical. The latter was a bit of a bastard, the former was the kindest man anyone could have ever met, but he'd never let anyone know it. Rumour had it prince Anthony had once challenged a man to a duel because said man called prince Anthony  _ nice _ . 

Prince Anthony's wife, princess Lisa seemed like the most charming woman among princex Beelzebub's guests, but both prince Anthony and count Aziraphale knew that she was a shallow woman of little wit. Prince Anthony had been once smitten with her, however just a few weeks after the wedding the prince realised how incredibly bored he was in the company of his spouse. She wasn't a bad person, but she had no intelligence to be good - or bad, for that matter. Prince Anthony despised her, and he couldn't even explain why. 

Count Aziraphale pitied the little woman, but prince Anthony was his best friend, and as of the moment, the young count was waiting for the slightly older prince to finish his round of empty greetings. His heavily pregnant wife was sensational - so lovely, so glowing, so proper, and married to the finest intellectual in the country. The Tzarina adored and admired him, while the prince bluntly refused any court duty. He was a military man, a gifted strategist, and he wanted nothing to do with the politics of the court.

Aziraphale sipped on his champagne patiently. He could have stepped up and cheered the little princess, yet he didn't want to move a finger for the sake of someone his dearest friend despised. He felt sorry for the child growing inside princess Lisa, because there could be no way the little princess would be a good parent. Aziraphale allowed himself to dream of a life where he could raise a child together with prince Anthony. After all, prince Anthony didn't care about Aziraphale's unfortunate nuptials. Prince Anthony didn't care for anything at all. Aziraphale knew that the prince loved his father, but that love was too much like pity - the old prince Hastur was a stern and grave presence, which would always make itself known around prince Anthony's sister, princess Ana.

Sometimes, when Anthony's company became too much for the count, he liked to chat with princess Ana. She resembled her older brother a lot, although Anthony had auburn hair and almost yellow eyes, while the princess had black hair and warm brown eyes. The princess was a human version of her brother. She was gentle, she was generous, she wasn't ashamed of it.

"There you are, angel. At last, someone in possession of a brain to talk to," prince Anthony said, approaching Aziraphale. He was sullen, he was sulking, he was so disgusted by his wife, Aziraphale was torn between his compassion for the little princess and his wish for his dearest friend to be happy. 

"Don't be mean, my dear boy. Your wife is just excited about your baby." Aziraphale chided softly.

"She's not. She keeps talking about how disgusting it is that she can't ride anymore. I told her she could ride all she liked, but she prefers old superstitions and everything that might make my life miserable."

"Oh my dear, you couldn't mean it!"

"Fuck it, angel! The other day she complained about her feet. I said, let me massage them. She went to my father and complained that I was insatiable and wild."

Aziraphale giggled.

"I can't imagine what the old prince said."

"Well, he told her to do whatever she wanted, told her to get rid of her old-fashioned notions of femininity. Lisa was so offended… I can't take it, angel. I'm leaving with general Shadwell."

"No, my dear! You can't possibly mean it! You're going to miss the birth of your child! You're going to be wounded or killed. Forget about your family,  _ I  _ will be heartbroken!"

"But you'll take care of them, won't you? Of my kid, of my sister, of my father? Of that silly woman who's but a victim of her upbringing… doesn't make it any easier, angel. Your husband was an arse but you had a good reason to divorce him. I have no reason to divorce Lisa other than that she makes me sick by the very fact of her existence in the house I grew up in."

"My dear, I'm sure it's not as dreadful as you make it sound." Aziraphale looked up at his tall, skinny friend hopefully.

"I wish I were equally as sure, angel." Prince Anthony downed his champagne. "I used to be so in love with her. I thought I couldn't breathe without her, but… when your romance takes place in a salon, at a ball, surrounded and restricted by every rule and custom, then it's just a masquerade, then it's just an affair between two masks, which is fine, but when you go and marry that mask… then you're so fucked!"

"Dear, there's no need for this kind of language."

"You, they say, have been frequenting the house of the Tracys. Marjorie is a sweet girl…"

"I don't know what you're implying, my dear. Tracy is an old maid, and wants to remain so."

"Good for her." Prince Anthony hummed. 

"As for you, my dear… Are you sure that all that's left to you is a military career? You could separate from her peacefully, you know. Take care of your child…"

"I had always seen marriage as a union of… kindred spirits. Two or more people who love each other, who care about each other's well-being, and then I find myself bound to a person who thinks nothing of it. Who doesn't even want me in her bed, but welcomes me there because her  _ duty  _ tells her so. Has she ever loved me? I doubt it. She allowed her mind to be overrun by that of her parents. I was a good match, and that's all! She could never care for my… for me. Not like you and me…"

"We're not in love, my dear," Aziraphale said. 

Oh, how wondrous are the ways we lie to ourselves! The young count was desperately, hopelessly in love with the handsome, melancholic prince ever since they had met at the court when Aziraphale was fighting for his divorce. He couldn't let his foolish heart take a hold of him once again. He didn't trust his judgement. Yet afterwards the melancholic prince visited him and brought him roses and chocolates, dragged him to every party that boasted of hosting a famous writer. 

However, prince Anthony was married and they said his wife was so impossibly lovely. When Aziraphale met princess Lisa, he couldn't help wondering what had to persuade prince Anthony to marry that woman who was so much inferior to prince Anthony. 

Aziraphale hated himself for thinking so. After all, prince Anthony had chosen that woman to be his partner, his companion, and yet each time Aziraphale had a chance to chat to the princess, he was perplexed by the differences - the prince was critical of everything, the princess didn't care about anything that wasn't her seamstress; the prince knew every law of the land, and the princess could hardly tell where her fruit came from.

Aziraphale shook his head to get rid of those unwelcome thoughts. His friend was about to leave the country with general Shadwell. There was no promise he'd ever come back.

Aziraphale grabbed the prince's hand.

"My dear, swear to me you'd come back! Swear it to me! Please do come back! For your child, for me, for your father who'd never survive losing you. For princess Ana who thinks the world of you!"

"I have no intention to die, Aziraphale. I swear on anything that we'll drink together again. Will you take care of my kid, though? Will you stop wasting your nights drinking and fucking around with those duellists? You know that Dolokhov was the one who seduced your husband, right?"

"My dear, my so called husband knew what he was doing. Dolokhov is a lovely fellow, though. So… peculiar, so dangerous… And he loves his mother and sister dearly. In short, he has a lot of redeeming qualities my former husband doesn't… And anyway it doesn't matter. How am I supposed to enjoy myself when you're away fighting, while I read every blessed book in existence, including those the Tzarina banned?"

"Don't do this to me, angel. I have to be useful. I have to do something. Otherwise, I will strangle my wife before she gives birth to my child… Oh fuck, angel, she doesn't deserve it! On the other hand… I deserve better too. Enough of them. Tell me about your adventures."

Count Aziraphale swallowed his sobs and told prince Anthony about his nights of pleasure and debauchery; about being friends with the man who had ruined his marriage; about chained bears brought in for entertainment; about the Romani singers treated worse than the bear.

He didn't tell prince Anthony how he would get himself senselessly drunk just to forget the shade of red of Anthony's hair; just to forget how unhappy prince Anthony was in his marriage. Oh, he didn't tell prince Anthony of his feverish dreams, of him fucking someone and screaming the prince's name when he climaxed; he didn't tell the prince of how he buried his face in Marjorie's lap when he came to her after a night of festivities and indulgence, of how she comforted him.

"Anthony, darling, I'm so tired. Let's head home," princess Lisa asked. She looked so pitifully forlorn.

"I told you, my love, that you shouldn't have…"

"Oh, but you never let me have any fun, Anthony! You put that baby in me, and now…"

"I warned you, my love…"

"Oh, but what do you know? You're not the one carrying this child…"

"Indeed I'm not. Sorry, my love. I'm taking you home this moment."

The prince left to make arrangements about their trip home, and the princess looked at Aziraphale wearily.

"He doesn't love me, does he? I know he doesn't… I don't love him either. I don't love our child."

"My dear girl, you're exhausted…"

"Of course I am! But it doesn't change a thing! I don't love him, he doesn't love me. He's leaving me. Can't blame him, though. Can't stand his presence… You're an angel, Aziraphale, he's right about that. We shouldn't have been married, you know? Now he's haunted by his guilt and I'm carrying his child… He's been careful and gentle… but I can't stand his touch, his company. I don't even like men, Aziraphale. I never wanted children. Now we're both condemned to this loveless unhappy marriage…"

"My dear, I hope it's just the nerves…"

"No! It's not! Both he and I made a mistake, but I'm the one carrying the child I never wanted…"

"I'm so sorry, my dear. I hope I can be of assistance…"

"What assistance? Will you hold my hand while I'm giving birth to the child of the man you're in love with?"

Aziraphale fixed her with a glance.

"Of… of course you will. Thank you, Aziraphale."

"Just send me a message, any time. I will be there."

"You'll be there while the man who put that child in me will be running away…"

"I'm sure he knows how unwelcome he is…"

"My love, the carriage is ready. Would you like Aziraphale to help you into it?" Prince Anthony said.

Princess Lisa looked at both her husband and his friend. "Yes, darling, I think I need an angel."

\---  
  


Prince Anthony knew that everything general Shadwell had was his blind belief in pure luck. He didn't want to argue with the general, though, so he kept his silence until the general addressed him directly.

"And you, prince Anthony, what do you think?" Shadwell asked, knowing all too well what prince Anthony thought.

"I think it's a suicide attack. The French are smarter than this. Who would you like to lead the attack?" 

Of course the next thing he knew was Shadwell appointing him to lead the charge.

Prince Anthony didn't protest. He had been readying himself for the death in the battle. As far as he was concerned, it was the safest way out of his unhappy marriage, the one that left his widow with all the privileges and his child with all the inheritance. He nodded. 

Shadwell knew of course, otherwise he wouldn't risk his best strategist for the sake of a minor victory. 

His job was to lead the troops. His job was to make sure no soldier would doubt the enterprise since prince Anthony was leading the attack, and no one would have ever risked prince Anthony, since he was the smartest person in any room.

Prince Anthony was married to a woman he despised and was just a friend to the man who meant everything to him. He had convinced himself that since his position didn't allow him to be happy, then there was no reason to be. 

He pulled out his sable, he thought of Aziraphale and Lisa and asked for their forgiveness. He led the attack, blindly, valiantly, and when his division stopped, wary of a grenade rolling in the grass, prince Anthony continued his march. 

The grenade kept spinning, waltzing. Anthony thought of his wife and of their baby, of his kind angel who had forsaken his birthright for the sake of his ridiculous half-brother… The grenade kept waltzing, so brave, so careless.

Anthony shut his eyes.  _ The truth,  _ he thought,  _ the utmost truth, it's that I love my angel and he loves me too… _

The grenade finally exploded. Anthony could hear frantic shrieks, screams that demanded he lay down… 

Then he was on his back. The world kept spinning and waltzing. He opened his eyes. Above him there was only the sky, serene and calm, so unbearingly blue, just as his angel's eyes.

And there was nothing else, no other thing that mattered, just that endless sky, blue and grey, chiding, loving. Aziraphale was the sky, Aziraphale was the soft ground under Anthony's back, Aziraphale was the first scream of Anthony's baby… Aziraphale was everything, above Anthony, calm, grounding, hope incarnate…

_ Help me… help me… I promised him. I promised my child… I need just one more day to tell him I love him. I need just one more day to see my kid and tell them I love them… Just one more day to tell my wife I'm so sorry… _

***

Aziraphale held Lisa's hand and tried to comfort her. He used every word in his vocabulary. The doctor offered some herbs. Lisa refused them.

"I will have a baby like I'm supposed to!" She yelled. "I'll do it all on my own!"

Aziraphale wiped her forehead. "My dear, just a bit more… You've been so brave, so strong! No one can take it away from you. Please, please, my dear Lisa, please, live!"

"He'll never love him, though… I'll never love him…" She looked at Aziraphale pointedly.

"Doesn't matter, my dear. Just… just don't want to see you suffer so…"

"He might be dying there… on the field of battle… I'll die with him, Aziraphale… He was kind to me, he swore to me… he'd take care of our baby… I just want it to be over… over…"

Aziraphale squeezed her hand. "My dear, it is almost over. I can't even imagine your pain, but I'm here with you, and you shouldn't think of Anthony now. I'll do all the thinking and worrying."

The doctor approached them. 

"Princess, I'm afraid I need the count for a few moments…"

"No! It's my life and my baby!"

"Indeed, princess. But do you think you're capable of being reasonable now?"

"I am perfectly reasonable. Speak."

Her black hair was in disarray, her face was pale and gaunt, but for the first time Aziraphale saw her beauty, saw how fierce she was. 

"I doubt both you and your child can survive the ordeal. I can save only only one of you."

Lisa looked at Aziraphale in panic. "What… what should I do?"

"My dear, it's your life, but… you didn't even want that baby, did you? You're young, you're healthy, you'll have more children, if you want them."

"You'd like me to die, though, wouldn't you? People of our stature don't get divorced. Your divorce was scandalous, but no one pays attention to your weirdness… If I die…"

"You won't die." Aziraphale squeezed her hand. "You will live."

"And condemn my child to death? You're soulless!"

"This is your choice, my dear. Whatever it will be, I will support you, but I implore you to remember that you can have a long and happy life…"

"Paid for with a child's death. No. No, I'm better than this." She turned to the stunned medic. "The child. You save my child."

"I think princess Ana would be a better…"

"Princess Ana… I don't want princess Ana to see… this. Not her…"

Aziraphale could picture Anthony's stern and clever sister sitting in her room, reading, being calm and collected, which was much better than what Aziraphale had to offer, but Lisa wouldn't be convinced otherwise.

_ It will all be over soon _ , Aziraphale thought. He was exhausted, although the very thought of it appeared shameful in the face of Lisa's suffering.

***

It was over too soon after that. Adam slept in Aziraphale's arms, while servants took care of Lisa's body. 

The count hoped that wherever the princess had gone, she was happier there, free from obligations and expectations that she had never wanted but which she had been taught to want. 

"I believe… princess Ana could help you with the boy," suggested the doctor. "She might help with finding a wet nurse too."

Aziraphale took Adam to Ana's rooms.

"Knew she wouldn't make it. Insufferable people, her family. Anthony was insufferable to her too, but I love him too much to properly condemn him." Ana rose from her chair and smiled sadly. She outstretched her arms - and Aziraphale promptly put the youngest Crowley into her arms. 

"Oh… he's so much like Anthony… I didn't love Lisa that much, but it wasn't her fault she was unhappy… and she was heartbreakingly unhappy. So was my brother. Marriage is a strange institution. Stranger than any chemical reaction, I think. It can make some people silly with happiness, and it can make some people silly with anger and resentment. Did you love your husband?" 

"No. I believed I did. How would anyone fail to love prince Anatole?.. When I brought my divorce before the Tzarina, I intended to make it very difficult for anyone to ever trust prince Anatole, and there's no love without trust."

"Anthony is right. You're a bastard."

"Well, I am, legally."

They laughed and suddenly went silent. There were loud steps on the stairs, doors opened and shut and an eerily familiar voice was calling:

"Ana? Lisa? Angel? Anyone… are you alright, all of you…"

Aziraphale rushed to the voice, but it was just the wind and the darkness. Adam started to cry.

\---

By the time the news reached prince Anthony, he had recovered from his wounds and handed his resignation to general Shadwell. It pained the old man to lose such a brilliant officer, however Shadwell had been suspecting that for the prince his service was only a way to get away from an unhappy household. Shadwell was considerate of those under his command and had no tolerance for reckless heroism, unless it suited his rather ineffable purposes, for general Shadwell firmly believed in fate; he even claimed that he would always know whether fate favoured his side or not.

Prince Anthony started his long journey home. His wounds were not without consequences, though, so every so often he had to stay somewhere for at least a few days to rest. 

One would hardly call it rest, however. Prince Anthony felt endlessly guilty of his wife's death, and even moreso, since the princess's death had finally made it possible for him and count Aziraphale to be together. But the prince knew his friend's noble soul, knew that Aziraphale wouldn't allow them to be happy, not when the happiness had become feasible because the princess had chosen her unwanted child.

Constantly worried, prince Anthony wrote to his sister and his friend every day. His father was a man of few words, and the only comfort he could offer couldn't be put into letters. His father despised the princess and had been against the marriage from the start. Prince Hastur had sent his son the driest letter of condolences one would have thought of, but prince Anthony knew that his father understood his guilt just the same. The prince only hoped that his father didn't lash out at princess Ana…

***

"You are a ridiculous creature, Ana! You'd be the most ridiculous if we didn't have Marjorie Tracy to compare you to…"

Aziraphale's heavy hand landed on the table and prince Hastur looked at the count with a mixture of displeasure and panic.

"You will not insult my dearest friend and your own daughter in front of me! You will not behave in this way, because I will not have you upset your own son any further with your antics!" Aziraphale was breathing loudly. Prince Gabriel would have said that it must have been a miracle the count was still alive, what with all his  _ sins  _ like actually enjoying his life. Prince Gabriel didn't even know the meaning of the word  _ joy _ . It was forbidden in his household, lest princex Beelzebub suspected something was missing in her marriage.

"Anthony is on his way home, he's not well, he's ridden with guilt. Do try and behave yourself, dear prince," Aziraphale continued. To hide her smirk, princess Ana stood up and walked over to the window. The food wasn't to her liking anyway, since her father preferred his food simple and tasteless.

"Oh… it's Anthony!" She exclaimed and rushed out of the room. Both Aziraphale and Hastur seemed to be at a loss about what to do. They wanted to look out of the window and they wanted to greet prince Anthony by the doors. They exchanged a meaningful look, that actually meant nothing and followed princess Ana.

They found her embracing her brother. 

"You're alive, you idiot… you're alive. Your boy is fine. He's six months old come next week, he has a wet nurse, although by this point Aziraphale should be able to breastfeed him." Ana giggled and let go off her brother.

"Glad you're alive," said prince Hastur and walked back into the house. Aziraphale had never been ashamed of his sentimentality, so he grabbed his friend into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you could make it, my dear, I'm so glad…"

Prince Anthony pulled back a bit to take a good look at his friend. "You… beautiful bastard!" He leaned in as if for a kiss, but stopped himself at the last moment. "Ana says you're breastfeeding my boy." 

"I'm doing no such thing. Your Adam is a treasure and… I feel… an obligation towards him. I was there when he was born and I was there when his mother died… oh, my dear Anthony, I'm so sorry!" 

"Don't be. Not your fault."

"No, my dear, my dearest love, it's both our faults, and I don't know how we will ever cope with it…"

Prince Anthony gently kissed Aziraphale's forehead. "I love you, angel. I prayed to stay alive only to tell you that… And to apologise to her," prince Anthony whispered.

"I love you too, you silly, melancholic prince. What are we going to do now?"

***

The rest of the day was spent in excitement. Prince Anthony couldn't take his eyes off of his boy. Together they walked to the princess's grave.

The wet nurse had to fight her way to Adam, but in the end princess Ana persuaded her to pump and showed her her inventions - a simple pump that caused no pain and an especially made bottle prince Anthony could use to feed his son.

"I believe my brother will no longer require your services," princess Ana said when Praskovia finished pumping. "We'll need just the milk. You'll be paid just as we agreed. You're very welcome to visit the boy, if you want to. We'll just need the milk for a few more months…"

Praskovia, being quite stunned by princess Ana's inventions took the machine with her and amazed the entire village with it. Princess Ana was to be worshipped as a saint. 

***

Once Adam was fast asleep in his cradle, prince Anthony walked over to Aziraphale's rooms.

"Angel, I can't leave the boy for long, but… could you come with me so that we can talk?"

"My dear, it's your own fault that you sent Praskovia back home." Aziraphale closed his book and followed his friend to his bedroom. "It is, besides, inappropriate for me to be in your bedroom at this hour."

"Angel… you said you loved me." 

"I do love you, my dear. I have always loved you. We can't be together, though, not after Lisa's sacrifice."

"Yes… that's… that's what I thought too… but will you stay? Adam adores you, Ana told me you kept our father at bay, and…"

Prince Anthony sank to the floor, crying. 

"When I was wounded… the only thing I saw everywhere was you. I was on my back, the sky above me just the colour of your eyes… the grass felt soft and welcoming… We've been such fools, angel…"

"Say no more," Aziraphale implored. He was crying himself. "We… we can't, dearest. Think of your boy. Of your reputation…"

"I don't care about my reputation, and as far as I'm concerned, you've been Adam's parent, while I was pretending to be valiant and useful… It's for you to decide, angel, but I'm on my knees right now, and…" Prince Anthony stopped himself, but remained kneeling. "When I saw you for the very first time, I thought to myself… I thought, if this man turns his head to look at me, then he's to be my husband. The next thing you did was to turn your head and look at me."

"I don't believe in omens, darling." Aziraphale knelt in front of prince Anthony. "I don't believe in destiny. Your wife knew about us before either of us did. She chose her child over herself. How can I let myself marry you mere months after her death? How will we explain ourselves to Adam?"

"Adam will know as much as we want him to know. We might tell him his mother sacrificed her life for him. We might tell him that you and I love each other. That I almost died running away from everything, including you… That you were there when he was born… that…"

"No, my love. You're not being reasonable. I will leave in the morning, and we will talk again when Adam is one year old. Then… if you still want to marry me, we'll talk. Until then, I have to disappear."

\---

"My dear count!" Marjorie greeted pleasantly. 

"My dear countess," Aziraphale replied, bringing her hand to his lips. Marjorie was a lovely woman in her mid-thirties. She had never been interested in marriage, and quite surprisingly, her family supported her decision. 

"Do tell me what you have been up to. I haven't seen you for ages!" Marjorie offered Aziraphale his usual comfortable armchair. 

"Seems like a lifetime of events, my dear. Princess Lisa died in labour, I helped take care of Anthony's son, Anthony returned… You have red hair, just like him."

"I sense so much more!" Marjorie wiggled and smiled. 

"We… I love him. He loves me. I can't let it happen, because Lisa died sacrificing her life for her child. What sort of a monster would I be..?"

"Oh, bless your souls. Everyone has always known you two were in love. Now, what sort of a monster would you be, if you refuse yourself a chance to be happy?"

"I won't be happy, my dear. My guilt will consume me, will make me cruel to Anthony. Perhaps, just like you, I'm not suited for marriage." Aziraphale shifted in his armchair. 

"And yet you stayed there to take care of Anthony's son. Do you miss him?"

"I do, terribly. Both of them. I asked him to wait for six months. He's free now, he has a child. I might not be that desirable once Anthony realises he's free to pick anyone…" Aziraphale trailed off. He refused to look at his friend, lest he was reminded of the melancholic prince of his dreams and aspirations.

Marjorie chuckled.

"He was away for almost a year. He returned and confessed his love for you." She prompted.

"He was wounded. Was scared of dying. His mind isn't clear… Why would he want me?"

"Because he does. Lisa's death is nobody's fault. You can't refuse yourself a life of love and joy because of your care for someone dead."

"Adam would hate me once he learns everything…"

"Why would he hate you? Aziraphale, my dear friend, it's difficult to hate you, and if someone does, then it's a telltale sign that they shouldn't be trusted. Prince Anthony loves you, thought it important for you to know it…"

Aziraphale stood up abruptly. "You're of no help, my dear. I'll visit you soon."

"Aziraphale, if you expected me to agree to your sulking, then you think so poorly of me…" Marjorie frowned in mock displeasure.

Aziraphale bowed and left immediately. 

***

Dolokhov came by, and Dolokhov didn't need any confessions. They had a drink or ten together, they moved their drinking to a restaurant, then to a well-known brothel… Aziraphale woke up a month later with a headache. 

His silent butler brought in the correspondence. There was no letter from Anthony, so after some relaxation, Aziraphale threw himself back in debauchery. He owed nothing to the world, he had ruined a perfectly unhappy marriage - his own and Anthony's. Perhaps that was the way of the world, be thought lying in someone's arms and trying to catch his breath while another person set on pleasuring him again. Perhaps marriages were never meant to be happy. Perhaps all it was about was just two people agreeing to be unhappy together. Perhaps love and its joy, its necessity were nothing other than the plotlines in Aziraphale's favourite books. 

He came home one early morning, disheveled and half-drunk, to find Anthony waiting for him. 

"It's been six months," Anthony said, standing up. "Your servants have always liked me, so they shared their concerns… I suppose, settling down with me isn't something you want."

"I can't do what I want!" Aziraphale snapped. "Right now I want to sleep, and here you are shaming me, while you yourself haven't spared a tear, a thought for your late wife! I'm a bachelor, Anthony. I'm rich."

"You're a bastard, that's what you are," Anthony said bitterly. "I thought you needed time to think things over. Russia is at war, I've been called back into the army. I only meant to tell you how much I love you, how much I wanted to leave knowing you loved me too, knowing we're at least engaged… Have a good life, angel. Please check up on Adam and Ana, if I don't return."

Prince Anthony left.

Aziraphale watched him go, watched that tall, lithe body sway as he walked.

***

Prince Anthony wasn't prudish. He quite approved of people having their fair share of pleasure, and he would be the last to deny his angel any pleasure, yet to discover that Aziraphale had spent half a year drinking and fucking wasn't what he had expected. His friend was a clever man, philosophical even, and he thought that Aziraphale needed that time to consider their feelings and their options. Luckily, Adam didn't remember Aziraphale, otherwise prince Anthony would have been properly angry. 

Once at general Shadwell's side, prince Anthony promised him that he had every reason to come back home to his son and his father and his sister. Even if Aziraphale hadn't loved him, he still had plenty of reasons to stay alive and survive against all odds. 

Prince Anthony surprised himself with how calm he was. He had rather expected being heartbroken and sullen, but Adam had changed things forever. Even if the prince couldn't have his happy life with his angel, he could still be there for his boy. 

***

Aziraphale followed prince Anthony to the front lines. He didn't know what was there to say, he didn't expect forgiveness, but he rushed to Anthony because for the first time it felt the only right thing to do. 

It took Aziraphale a while to find his friend, and when he did, he was on the surgeon's table, severely wounded and consoling Aziraphale's ex-husband who had his leg amputated. 

Everything suddenly appeared foolish and unimportant. There could have been no other truth than that two (or more) adult people who love each other should always find a way to be together; that being human implied looking for certainty in one's life and that certainty sometimes was that other person who proved to be the reason and rhyme of the world. 

"Dearest… dearest, I'm so sorry…" 

"Angel? Is that really you?"

"It's me, my love, and I'll never… never let you go again…"

"You… debauched… wonderful man. I missed you, you know?"

Aziraphale sobbed and nodded.

It would take some time, they both knew it. It would take some time for Anthony to recover, for them both to find their footing as spouses, as partners, but they knew they wouldn't be alone, not when they had each other, and as the surgeon took care of Anthony, Aziraphale held his hand; and as they traveled back home, Aziraphale took care of his dear boy; and as they settled into their new life together, they discovered they couldn't remember anything before their time together. And wasn't it just right?

**Author's Note:**

> Trust me to concise *the* Russian novel the size of a planet into six thousand words...


End file.
